Joan looked at her watch. She had an article to finish. Madge stood on tiptoe and kissed her. She came to him and stood over him with her hands upon his shoulders.!

“Did you ever see her again, after her marriage?” asked Joan. She felt that he was watching her through his half-closed eyes. “There are those cottages,” he continued, “just before you come to the bridge. They might be repaired and a club house added. The idea is catching on, they tell me. Garden villages, they call them now. It gets the men and women away from the dirty streets; and gives the children a chance.”

“But you’ll get out of that,” suggested Joan. “You’ve got the actress face.” He threw aside the letter. “I’ll tell you what I want you to do,” he said. “It’s nothing to object to. Tell him that you’ve seen me and had a talk. I understand his scheme to be that the country should grow more and more food until it eventually becomes self-supporting; and that the Government should control the distribution. Tell him that with that I’m heart and soul in sympathy; and would like to help him.” He pushed aside a pile of papers and, leaning across the desk, spoke with studied deliberation. “If he can see his way to making his policy dependent upon Protection, we can work together.” “Yes, dear, and of course that can happen too,” agreed the little old lady.